


Silverite

by eternalshiva



Series: Dragon Age: Knight Captain Rylen [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalshiva/pseuds/eternalshiva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He straightened himself before the reflection, the sharp contrast of his tattoo burned against his skin and he resisted the urge to rub the length of his nose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silverite

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know. I’m listening to Sound of Silence Cover by Disturbed and for some reason it gave me @siriusdraws Rylen feels.

_Silver_.

He squinted at the brightness of the light reflecting off the metal. Rylen critically eyed the armour in the mirror they managed to find in the rubble of Griffon’s Keep. Sand had managed to worm its way into every nook of his gear and everything itched, everything rubbed the wrong way with sand in-between the flesh. 

This was Hell. It wasn’t _Kirkwall Hell_ , but close enough.

Darkspawn slithered underground, beasts roamed the grounds looking for flesh and sand swallowed men faster then the lack of water. The Inquisition had given him command of this place but he wasn’t sure if it was a promotion or a punishment. 

He pointed his chin up, the sharp edges of his tattooed skin shifted, he crinkled his nose as dust kicked up from the cloth of his gear and sneezed unceremoniously. 

 _It was a punishment_ , he decided, _no way around it_. 

The heat would probably kill him before anything else, but the Western Approach was strange. It was hot and dangerously cold at the same time plus the Wardens were a suspicious lot lately.

 _Standing at vigil_ meant something entirely different here - words of a similar oath taken years ago burned in the back of his throat but he pushed aside it, the shame of his order trickling back as stared at the eye in the middle of his chest. A different _pride_. 

The Inquisition sword carved itself over his memory of the Templar symbol - a weapon for someone else. He was a soldier, a _tool_.

Times had moved on. 

Now, he stood in the center of a desert, in the center of a fortress rotting under the festering Darkspawn and Warden wars with his own Command once more. He felt at ease and under scrutiny all at once - the Inquisitor…

He frowned, pressing his lips together as he ignored the sweat in his palms thinking of Haylan. No time to think about his _reluctance_ \- he’d figure something out before she left the burning rubble of the fortress back to Skyhold. 

He straightened himself before the reflection, the sharp contrast of his tattoo burned against his skin and he resisted the urge to rub the length of his nose. His heels clicked together against the cobblestone and took a breath to settle his thoughts. 

Time to meet with the _lass_. 


End file.
